The First Time
by AzikaRue394
Summary: "She says she loves me everyday, even when she doesn't use those exact words." Max/Mariam
1. Part 1

**The First Time  
_Part 1_**

* * *

Max had never been this nervous in his entire life – not before his first solo international flight, not before moving to Japan, and not even before his battle against Mystel, upon which the entire future of beyblading had hinged. Those butterflies had been nothing he couldn't handle. He was an athlete. He was used to the pressure.

Right now, though? Max was sure the butterflies had passed long ago, making way for a flock of geese blown _way_ off the course of their yearly migration.

That being said, Max had also never been this excited in his life.

Before parting ways the previous day, they had decided that he would meet Mariam at her hotel around 4:30. He'd left his house too early in his eagerness to see her, so he forced himself to take the long way there and walk at a slower pace than was typical.

To his surprise, Mariam was standing outside waiting for him when he rounded the last bend. He checked the time on his phone just to be sure that he wasn't late. Relief flooded his system when he saw that he was actually still early. With renewed confidence, he made his way toward Mariam, guilt-free.

It was unusually chilly for the springtime. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans tucked into her Saint Shield boots and a simple gray top underneath the lightweight jacket she'd bought on one of her last trips to New York. As he got closer, Max could see the tell-tale redness of her nose, and he grinned when she turned to see his approach. He loved the way her features softened that little bit when she caught sight of him. A stranger might have missed it, but Max found himself reminiscing over how far they had come and how hard they had worked at their relationship in order to get to the point where the tension disappeared from Mariam's posture in his presence, instead of being compounded.

Anticipation swelled in his stomach again, and he was lucky it was somewhat quelled by the time he slotted his hand into hers, or else they both may have floated away.

"Good evening, Miss," the blond drawled jokingly, leaning in to greet his girlfriend with a kiss.

"Ma-ax." Mariam chastised as she moved just out of range, "I'll get you sick."

She was referring to the cold she'd caught on her recent flight from China; it seems the recirculated air did her no favors this time around. She had spent the better part of the day before sneezing her way through an entire box of tissues at Max's dad's house, complaining about how she'd never gotten sick from a flight before and how it made no sense that it was one of the shortest trips that had ultimately infected her.

Max had done his best to make her comfortable, providing endless mugs of tea and bowls of soup while they watched a hefty portion of his DVD collection. It seemed to have made a difference – he could still hear the congestion in her voice, but she looked much less run-down than when he'd seen her last. Her eyes even had their sharpness back.

Max pouted.

"You know I don't care about that, Mariam. I keep telling you: it'll be fine."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and she huffed in mild annoyance.

"If you're down for the count tomorrow, don't come crying to me."

They started their leisurely stroll down the sidewalk in the direction of the nearest subway station, held hands dangling between them.

"I spent all day yesterday snuggling on the couch with you. If I'm not sick by now, I doubt I'm in any danger."

"It's probably my 'no kisses' rule that's kept you healthy this far," Mariam countered, nudging his shoulder with her own in a way that would look like an accident to any outside observer.

"Maybe it's my superior immune system," he joked with a dimpled smile.

The Saint Shield snorted and rolled her eyes.

The rest of their walk to the subway passed quickly and with casual conversation. They managed to snag two seats next to one another on the train. Mariam, for once, did not argue that she would rather stand, a testament to the fact that she was still not feeling completely herself. She'd made sure to release his hand once they got within sight of the throngs of people pouring into the station, ever cautious of the fact that more people meant more possibility of their pictures ending up splashed on magazine covers. The car was so crammed that she was sat flesh against Max's side anyway. Neither of them minded.

The journey went quickly, and from their stop it was only a couple blocks to the restaurant they had scoped out online. It had only just opened recently, but it had garnered quite the loyal following in that time span. They were shown to their table after a short wait, Max taking the chance to pull Mariam's chair out for her while she removed her coat.

Once they were both seated with orders placed, their discussion picked up again.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" the blond asked with concern plainly evident on his features.

Mariam narrowed her eyes at him over the mug she was blowing gently on.

"It's just, you never order tea when we go out," Max backtracked. "You don't really like it."

"It was nice of you to make me so much of it yesterday, then," Mariam countered sarcastically. She set the mug down and sent him a challenging look.

"Sorry!" Max quickly tried to diffuse the situation before it came to a head. "I only wanted to say that if you're not feeling up to it, we don't have to stay long. I don't want you to get worse from pushing yourself – especially not for my sake. You won't get better by forcing your way through the night with sheer determination."

Mariam smirked. "Aren't we dating in the first place because of your sheer determination?" Max blushed as his date continued, "I don't think it's fair for you to be lecturing me. If anything, Maxie," she leaned closer with a smirk on her lips, "I should be the one giving you a piece of _my_ mind."

Max's stomach flip-flopped again. Her gaze was as coy and flirtatious as ever, and he felt completely lost in it. At some point he leaned forward without realizing, shrinking the gap between them to appease those beckoning green eyes.

"After all," she whispered, caressing a path from the back of his wrist to the tip of his pointer finger, and repeating the motion once for each digit, "neither of us would be sitting here if it weren't for you. 'Sheer determination', huh? I'd say it has its merits."

Max had goosebumps. It took him a minute to collect himself and remember what he had been saying.

"Sorry, Mariam. I can't help it. I just really love –," He cut off with a wince, before trying again, "I really care about you, y'know?"

He took hold of one of her hands, before she could withdraw it from the table, and mindlessly traced her knuckles with his thumb. His heart was beating rapidly.

Mariam had gone rigid, but she maintained eye contact, which was more than Max expected after his slip-up. There were so many untraceable emotions in the depths of her expression, but by the time he opened his mouth to ask her about them, their waiter was setting their dishes down on the table, and the moment was lost.

They ate in silence for a little while before Mariam struck up a conversation, as if Max hadn't just almost confessed his undying love for her within hearing range of a dozen strangers, over a cup of tea she didn't like.

For a while, things felt normal.

* * *

The train ride back was less busy than the first time around. The artificial lights in the train seemed even more harsh after the soft lighting in the restaurant – Max could tell it was bothering Mariam more than she let on. She had started to diminish as they polished off dessert, and he was sure her sickness was catching up with her.

As it was, Max was not surprised when, sometime between the first two stops, he felt the weight of Mariam's head rest on his shoulder and her breathing even out. He let her sleep and got lost in his own thoughts.

His antsy anticipation had simmered down, leaving him with an uncertain variety of other feelings, all culminating in one thought: he had almost told Mariam he loved her. And not in the way he had been meaning to all evening.

Everything had started the day before, when Mariam dragged herself out of bed and to his father's house to see him, despite being as sick as a dog.

She had seemed normal when Max dropped her off at her hotel, after escorting her from the airport. Maybe she had been more tired than usual, but it was a red-eye flight and there had been technical issues delaying take-off, so he'd thought nothing of it and left her to catch up on sleep.

All of their communication during the hours in between had been over text. They were few and far between, but he figured she was asleep most of the time. Not once had she hinted at anything, besides the usual downsides of travel, being wrong. He had, therefore, been flabbergasted when he answered the door and saw the state she was in: hair dragged into a limp version of its usual ponytail, face flushed, nose cherry-red, and a pocket full of tissues. He didn't think he'd ever invited a guest inside so forcefully before.

"_What in the world, Mariam?! Are you sick? You shouldn't be out!"_

"_I came to see you and this is the thanks I get?"_

They bickered profusely, words like 'stubborn' and 'controlling' used in droves, before Mariam was overtaken with a sneezing fit and Max was guiding her to the couch sympathetically.

Somewhere in the time spent dozing together, boiling soup, pouring tea, deflecting complaints and apologies, and cleaning up snotty tissues, Max realized there was absolutely nowhere on earth he'd rather be.

It hit him like a meteorite, this immense feeling of fondness and contentment. It was then that he knew, without a doubt in his mind, that he _loved_ Mariam. Truly _loved_ her. This was no childish crush or passing fancy. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Mariam. If that meant caring for her and cleaning up after her when she was ill – great! If that meant secret kisses, witty retorts, legs for days, and a partner in life who understood him and made him happier than he'd ever been – even better!

If she'd been awake instead of in the fever-induced slumber of the century on her side of the couch, Mariam would have surely had something to say about the dopey grin he'd sported. Probably something snarky about him daring to be disgustingly happy when she was miserable.

As it was, she had fallen asleep, and Max had been left to plot the perfect way to confess his newfound feelings for her.

He should have known that even the best-laid plans don't always pan out.

The _ping!_ of the intercom announcing an upcoming stop snapped Max out of his reverie.

Yeah, he'd made a total mess of his confession, that was for sure. But Mariam hadn't shut him out. Even if she'd not acknowledged what he said, she at least hadn't acknowledged it in a negative way. There was a time where such a slip-up would have sent her running for the hills, and he'd have had to comb New York City for a chance to make it right.

This time, she'd stayed. That counted for something.

Max was loath to pretend he knew what Mariam was feeling all the time. For every emotion she expressed, she kept five more tamped down within her. He liked to think that her staying meant that their feelings for each other were more important to her than the voice in the back of her head that told her to run when confronted with overwhelming truths. It made his heart happy.

So, while Max had his tried-and-true 'sheer determination' on his side, he decided he would tell her how he felt, entirely and accurately, and then handle whatever chaos erupted afterwards. Mariam might disagree, but he knew she was a safe woman to entrust with his heart.

"Mariam?" he called quietly, jostling her shoulder, "Wake up, Mariam."

Her face scrunched in distaste, but she gave in to his pestering and opened bleary eyes. She arched her back and extended her arms in a stretch, before realizing where they were and rounding on him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?!" she asked indignantly.

"I did – we're almost at our stop."

"Why did you let me fall asleep?!"

"Mariam..." he trailed off, not wanting to point out that she was still obviously not up to snuff and make her angrier. She was only so irritable because she didn't feel well, anyway. It really wasn't worth the argument.

The Saint Shield huffed, and stood up to go wait by the door as they arrived at the platform. Max followed and it wasn't long before they were stepping out of the subway station and into the crisp nighttime air.

After a short moment of getting her bearings, Mariam crossed her arms and marched purposefully in the direction of her hotel.

Thankfully Max hadn't struggled to keep up with her since his last major growth spurt, or she might have very well left him in the dust. He made sure to give her some space since she was clearly still mad about her impromptu nap on the return journey, but he never strayed so far as to make it unclear that they were traveling together.

At one point, his hand rested on her upper arm as they steered themselves around a gaggle of pedestrians and he marveled at how stiffly she was holding herself. A gust of wind kicked up, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her torso with an air of annoyance.

They had reached the part of town where the crowds thinned drastically. There was no one in sight besides the people they'd just passed, so Max took a chance and snaked an arm around his girlfriend's waist, tucking her against his side in an effort to share some warmth. He, truthfully, wasn't even chilly until the wind kicked up, but he realized Mariam must have been freezing the entire walk when he kissed her temple apologetically and felt how hot her skin was.

As if on cue, she started to sniffle and sneezed.

"It's like the plague," she pouted, and blew her nose with a tissue she'd produced from her pocket.

Max rubbed his hand up and down her side in sympathy.

"I think you have a fever, again, too."

"_Great_," Mariam said with disdain.

"I hope you realize this means I'm walking you up to your room and putting you to bed myself. There will probably be tea involved again."

Mariam scowled.

"This really sucks," she said venomously.

"You're the one that said your mom would somehow 'just know' if you didn't drink any," Max countered with a smirk.

"First of all," she said, stopping him walking with a hand to the center of his chest, "you've met my mother. You know that she'd find out somehow."

Max nodded in amused acquiescence. She sounded cute when she was congested, but he didn't dare mention it.

"Secondly," Mariam purred, eyeing him up as if he were her prey. The atmosphere changed instantaneously, the air thickening with each weighty caress of her eyes. She leaned closer to whisper in his ear, "I meant that it sucks to have you all to myself for days when I'm too sick to properly enjoy it."

She was in his space completely now, so close he thought if he breathed deeply enough in tandem with her, their chests would touch.

"You don't know how much I want to kiss those tempting lips of yours."

Max had to close his eyes at that - the sight of her on top of everything else was just too much.

Mariam tilted her head and gave him a lingering kiss on his jawline to punctuate her remark. Her hand felt white-hot against his chest.

Max exhaled shakily, and instinctively pulled her into his arms.

Her breath ghosted teasingly over the place that she'd kissed as she exhaled a knowing laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. She had the perfect line of vision for seeing his Adam's apple bob as he gulped. She smirked, and kissed his neck slowly.

Max could hear his own heartbeat in his ears and feel it thundering through his veins. His stomach swooped pleasantly. Mariam was cocooned in his embrace and it suddenly didn't matter that her forehead was too warm and her nose too cold. She blinked and he could feel her eyelashes ghost against his skin.

Nighttime had properly fallen by now. They seemed quite alone in the world.

Mariam inhaled deeply –

– and had to instantly step away to have a coughing fit.

Max rubbed her back in a circular motion and spoke comforting words, feeling guilty for letting himself be derailed.

Mariam cursed in her native tongue once her coughing subsided. It took her a minute to catch her breath entirely, and she used her sleeve to dry her watering eyes in obvious frustration.

"Hey, it's all right, Mariam," the blond soothed, gathering her to his side again, "Let's get you inside, yeah?"

"I know it's all right," Mariam snapped, her frown saying otherwise.

She let Max escort her around the corner, down the last block, and to the doors of her hotel without a fuss.

When they finally set foot in the lobby, Mariam made a beeline for the elevators, intent on sleeping her sickness off once and for all. Max let her go on ahead, and went over to make a request of the receptionist. By the time he made it up to her room with one of the two items requested, she was already inside.

He smiled fondly and raised a hand to knock. Right before his knuckles made contact with the door, he realized that it wasn't closed the whole way; it had been propped open the tiniest sliver with the attached doorstop. He let himself in, and shut the door with a click, effectively barricading them from the outside world.

When he'd booked the hotel room, he had done so at the last minute. Mariam hadn't known she was coming until the week before, so it had been a scramble to find her a place to stay. Luckily, one of the places she stayed at regularly had an opening. As it turned out, it was even more lucky that it was a room with two queen-sized beds, because Max wasn't planning on leaving her until he was sure she wasn't going to lay awake all night sneezing into the sheets.

A quick scan of his surroundings told Max that Mariam was most likely in the bathroom, so he made himself at home, setting his parcel down on the unused bed and slipping out of his shoes.

Mariam must have rushed through her bedtime routine, because it was less than ten minutes later that she stepped out of the en suite wearing a sweatshirt and pajama pants with her cell phone held between her ear and her shoulder. She shot him a weary smile in greeting, and continued her conversation in Chinese while she put her clothes from the day aside for washing. Max caught his name a few times in between all the words he didn't know and some that he had picked up on just from hearing the language spoken so much in his presence. She hung up after another few minutes and tossed her phone aside.

"Was that your mom?"

She nodded, collapsing onto her bed.

"You could've kept talking. I don't mind."

"Too tired,"Mariam moaned and threw an arm over her eyes. "I hate this."

Max sat down on the edge of her mattress, a respectable distance away, just in case.

"I'm sorry."

She shifted her arm slightly so she could peek up at him with one emerald eye.

"Stop apologizing – it's not your fault." She punctuated the last word with a violent series of coughs.

Max was at her side in an instant, helping her into a sitting position so her congestion didn't prevent her from catching a breath. Once it passed, she was cussing up a storm because her eyes were watering, which made her nose run, which, in turn, made her sneeze. He produced a box of tissues for her. She took a couple with excessive force.

"Thanks for manhandling me," snarled Mariam.

The blond sighed. He'd gotten enough verbal abuse yesterday to realize that she didn't mean any of it personally – she was just a miserable patient. Instead of arguing with her, he fetched the pillows from the extra bed. He fluffed them and layered them on top of the original pillows so the Saint Shield would be propped up when she lay back on them. He peeled a corner of the duvet back and looked expectantly at Mariam, where she was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed.

She huffed and crawled into the offered spot, settling down into a half-upright position with crossed arms.

Max tucked her in before retreating to the other side of the room. He could feel her eyes on him the whole time. He saw them widen when he came back with the extra blanket he'd asked for before coming upstairs.

"Thought you might still be cold," he offered by way of an explanation. He busied himself with spreading it out over her, plugging it in, and turning it on to one of the settings in the middle.

"It's an electric blanket."

It was more of a statement than a question, but Max answered anyway, "Yeah, I hated seeing you so cold because of the fever – thought this might help warm you up. I'm glad they had one, or I'd have had to go home and get mine. Which, y'know...I would have," he finished somewhat lamely with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

She stared at him with an odd look on her face, before deflating into the pillows.

"I'm a terrible person."

"What? No!" Max objected. He perched next to her on the bed and cradled her hand in his. "You're not a terrible person, Mariam."

"Max, I've been snapping at you for the past two days just because I don't feel good," Mariam pointed out, shooting him a look with less energy behind it than was typical.

"Mariam-"

"You can leave now, Max," she interrupted, tugging her hand free. "I'll call you when I can be better company."

The last thing Max wanted was to leave. His stomach was twisting itself in knots in a stressful mixture of anxiety and guilt. He could tell he was about to go on the tirade he'd been planning, and he only hoped he spat out the right words under the circumstances.

"Mariam!" he started out, a little too forceful maybe, but it got her attention. She looked like she was going to say something, so he quickly continued, "Mariam, you have no idea how I feel about you, do you?"

She looked at him like he had two heads, but remained silent, waiting for him to keep going.

He chuckled to himself, and took hold of her hand once more.

"Mariam, I've been thinking about this a lot recently and it's something I know I'll regret if I don't tell you. Before I do, I want to make sure you know that I don't expect you to feel the same. You don't have to feel pressured or awkward or anything like that. I just have to get this off of my chest because you deserve to know how I feel."

Mariam looked curious, and also like she suspected what was coming and would run away if she could. For an instant, Max felt bad about cornering her like this, even though he'd done so without meaning to. He pushed the feeling aside and smiled innocuously.

"These past two days, the ones that you seem to think you've been impossible to be around, were two of my favorite days in recent memory, because they made me realize something."

He took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact, and continued, "Mariam, I _want_ to have bad days with you. I want to share in _every_ part of your life; the good and the bad. Every little piece of you that I've seen, in all these different situations, has been a piece I loved, because they're all a part of _you_. And I love you."

He paused and let the weight of those words sink in, loving the taste of them on his tongue.

"Oh," Mariam muttered.

Max dipped his head in a blush.

"I love you, Mariam," he said again, with unspeakable certainty. "There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you, no matter what mood you're in. You're it for me. I'll never feel this way about anybody else."

He cupped her chin and met her eyes with his own searching gaze.

"I don't _want_ to feel this way about anybody else."

"Max...," she whispered with a voice heavy with emotion. Was he imagining the extra redness in her eyes?

"I love you," he repeated, "and I just wanted you to know that. Please don't feel bad for not being perfect around me."

She visibly steeled herself, and opened her mouth to answer, when a politely insistent rapping sounded from the other side of the door.

"I'm gonna get that," he said, with an underlying apology.

With a kiss to her hand, he was off, returning almost immediately with a room service cart.

"The tea and extra tissues were my idea," he explained, "but the array of meds was all them. I wouldn't recommend taking all of these at once." He surveyed the contents of the cart skeptically.

Mariam snorted.

"How many of them do I have to take so I don't have to have any tea?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should call your mom back and ask her."

If Max had thought their night might progress awkwardly because of those three big words, he would have been wrong. Mariam seemed determined not to bring it up, keeping their chatter familiar and typical.

Or maybe she had decided his whole spiel was an invention of her feverish mind.

Either way, Max followed her lead, not wanting her to think he was making a big deal out of something he had specifically said she did not have to reciprocate. He also neglected to say anything about the long bouts of silence that would come over her, where she stared off into the middle distance, deep in thought.

When he laid down to sleep that night, curled around his comforter so that he could use it as a blanket and a pillow, having sacrificed the majority of the bedding to Mariam, he found himself watching his girlfriend in the flickering light of whatever program they had muted on the television. She'd settled down facing away from him, but he watched her body swell with each breath and knew there wasn't anywhere else he belonged more than right where he was.

"Thanks, Maxie," she said so softly that he wouldn't have heard it had he not been studying her with quiet intensity, "for everything."

He knew then, with the weight of her words, that she wouldn't shy away from him after the day's conversations. Things might seem the same as they were, but inside, they were both changed – their relationship was changed. She didn't have to say it right away. As long as she felt it, he could wait for the words.

* * *

_A/N: I shared snippets of this with RedWheeler literal ages ago, and her birthday seemed like an appropriate time to polish it up and publish it. So, Happy Birthday, Bae! I hope this makes your workday a bit more bearable. Thanks for being the best friend I could ask for for over 10 years now! It honestly feels like so much longer than that, but also just yesterday at the same time. _

_Giant thanks to roktavor, as well, for beta reading for me! You helped me feel less rusty at this whole writing thing. _

_I'm planning two more chapters to this story - I have both started and enough of a handle on them that it shouldn't be another four years before I upload again. Although anyone keeping up with me after all this time must have a wealth of patience, anyway._

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. An Interlude

**The First Time**  
_**An Interlude**_

* * *

"I'm just saying, Hilary, if he isn't back in another five minutes his plate's fair game. You don't waste Grandpa's cooking."

"Don't you dare, Tyson!" Hilary brandished her chopsticks at him threateningly from the other side of the table. "He'll be back any minute. Just be patient!"

Tyson rolled his eyes.

"'Any minute' is at least half an hour in Max and Mariam time, and they've already been on the phone for twice that long," Tyson complained, opting to refill his own plate rather than start in on his friend's. "We already had to suffer through Grandpa's stir-fry lesson without him. And he _still_ got served the best bits, even though he wasn't here!"

"Stop complaining, Tyson," Hilary scolded. "Max hardly gets to see Mariam. And it wouldn't hurt you to eat more vegetables."

"He's supposed to be visiting _us_," Tyson huffed and glanced outside. Max was pacing back and forth along the fence, on the far side of the yard, with his cell phone glued to his ear. Every once in a while a laugh would be carried their way on the breeze.

It had been an idyllic summer day in many ways. The sun was shining without a cloud in the sky to contend with, but it wasn't so hot out that you felt like a useless puddle of sweat. Max was in town after several months spent in New York with his mom. He'd flown in the night before and somehow managed to have the energy to spend the day catching up with his friends.

Tyson and Hilary met Max at the hobby shop, where they had breakfast with he and his dad before it opened. Afterwards they headed down to the river and filled each other in on current events.

Every time Max returned from America, Draciel had a new upgrade, so he and Tyson shared a few friendly battles with Hilary taking turns cheering for each of them. Eventually a group of young fans congregated around them, and the boys ended up hosting an impromptu training session.

It felt like old times for Hilary, who watched the proceedings wistfully. As they got older, experiences like this were few and far between, especially compared to the years they had spent living in each other's pockets. Every second they could steal together was priceless. With Tyson in his baseball cap, Max in a blue t-shirt, and the vague scent of ocean when the wind blew, it was like nothing had changed.

Eventually, the group ended up back at the dojo. The sight of their shoes together by the entrance set the stage for nostalgia, and they'd been reliving some old memories when Gramps popped in and harangued them into helping him prepare dinner. He'd had a point when he said they were old enough to learn how to prepare a well-rounded meal – Judy was already collecting college applications for Max. It had been going well, too, until Max had to step away halfway through to take Mariam's call.

After that, Tyson had been forced to spend the whole night sautéing vegetables with Hilary while his grandfather made cryptic remarks about how they worked well as a team, especially in domestic situations. Hilary kept blushing about it and Tyson, flustered, figured the room was plenty warm enough to account for both of their flushed faces.

At least the food turned out all right.

"We got to spend all day with him, Tyson. It's not like he's leaving tomorrow." Hilary reminded, casting her own longing look in the blond's direction. Tyson hadn't been the only one looking forward to his visit.

Still, Max had a girlfriend now, and it was only fair that she took some level of priority. It wasn't as if Mariam got to see Max every day either, and she surely missed him when he wasn't around, if the length of their phone call was any indicator.

If Hilary was bothered at all by the interruption, she at least had the good sense not to complain openly about it like Tyson. Max was happy with Mariam and she was happy for him. That didn't change the fact that his relationship drove home the truth that she and her boys were growing up. She didn't want to think that there would ever be a time when Max would hop on a plane and leave indefinitely, but it was a realer and realer possibility as the years passed.

The brunette shook her head to chase away the unwanted thoughts.

"Just give him another few minutes," she said decisively.

"It's been almost TWO HOURS!" Tyson shouted with his typical dramatics. He growled and leaped to his feet. "I can't take this anymore!'

"Tyson!" Hilary scolded, scrambling to follow him through the open dining room doors and stop him from doing something stupid.

"Hey, Max!"

The blond turned to face his friends, blue eyes widening slightly at the frustration evident in Tyson's voice.

"Tyson, honestly!" Hilary locked arms with him, stopping him out of reach of Max. "Just let them finish, you oaf!"

"I think we've waited long enough, Hilary," Tyson said, trying to wrest his arm from her grasp. He was unsuccessful, so they tussled awkwardly for a while before ceasing and staring one another down instead.

Max stared helplessly between the pair, unsure if he needed to drop the phone and step in immediately, or if it was safe to wait and offer Mariam a proper goodbye first.

"Uh...just give me one minute, guys," he said apologetically. He put a little extra distance between himself and his friends, before resuming his conversation.

He wasn't far enough away to hide what he was saying, and Hilary had to admit that one thing she and Tyson had in common was an abundance of curiosity. They listened in shamelessly, their scuffle forgotten.

"Well, I knew you'd only be calling if it was important," Max said, sounding like he was trying to reason with his girlfriend.

They could make out the tinny sound of Mariam's voice coming through the phone. She was speaking rapidly, but it was impossible to tell exactly _what_ was being said from where they were standing, straining to hear.

Max waited patiently for his turn to speak and then answered: "Yeah, of course I'll tell them."

Blue eyes flicked their way in a silent apology, before all of his attention was once again on his phone call. He listened intently to whatever Mariam was saying on the other end with an affectionate grin, as their discussion came to a close.

"Yeah, okay, sounds good. I'll write to you soon," he promised, before cupping the phone closer and uttering, "I love you."

His expression softened and his posture relaxed when he spoke those words. It was a tender moment that Hilary and Tyson missed entirely because they were busy gaping at each other in disbelief.

"Goodnight."

Max finally hung up and swiveled to face his friends sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, guys. Mariam is, too," he said. "She didn't know we were hanging out and I lost track of time." He finished with a shrug and looked between his two shocked friends. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked after neither of them offered anything close to a reply, having the audacity to look confused as to why they were staring at him like he'd spontaneously mutated.

"Dude..." was about all Tyson could manage. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but he remained otherwise silent.

Hilary's surprise, however, had seemingly passed. Instead she had a terrifying look of glee on her face that made Max take a step back reflexively.

"Oh, Maxie!" she said, squealing loud enough to make the boys flinch. She launched herself at the blond and enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug. "You didn't tell us you and Mariam were saying 'I love you'!"

The change that came over Max at that moment was instantaneous: He blushed heavily and struggled to stammer a response of any kind. It was sort of hard to think with one of his friends vibrating with excitement and squeezing the living daylights out of him, and the other just staring with brazen confusion.

"I, uh, guess it never came up?" Max tried. He willed himself to relax and gave Hilary an appeasing pat on the back. "I mean, we've been dating a while now, so..."

The brunette gave him one final squeeze before letting go and backing off enough for Max to get some air. She had a look of dreamy pride on her face while she watched him brush nonexistent wrinkles from his clothes to cover up his feelings of embarrassment.

The sun was dipping low on the horizon by now, laying a blanket of glowing orange hues over the landscape. A lazy wind sent ripples across the Grangers' koi pond and made Max's golden hair dance like a flame. Just like that it felt like one of the many evenings they used to laugh, train, and lounge in this same yard as a team.

It seemed like forever ago, but only yesterday at the same time. Everything was different now, making the things that stood the test of time stick out in painful contrast.

Max almost expected to look up and see the Saint Shields on the roof, waiting to challenge them to a match. No, though. He had only just spoken to Mariam and knew for a fact she and her team were all still in China.

"Sooo," Hilary tried and failed to feign nonchalance, clasping her hands behind her back, "who said it first?" Her dark eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she favored Max with a playful grin.

Max figured there was no reason to dance around the question. Anyone who knew he and his girlfriend personally would probably guess correctly.

"Well, uh, I did," he answered, bracing himself for Hilary's onslaught of questions. They doubtlessly would have come if Tyson hadn't taken it upon himself to interject.

"Of course he did, Hilary. Sheesh. Have you met Mariam?" Tyson must have realized how that sounded, because he quickly apologized and continued, "No offense, Max! She just isn't the mushy type."

"No, she's not," Max agreed fondly. It was one of the many things he loved about Mariam, because it made each romantic gesture of hers even more significant. She may not be the quickest to warm up to people, but if she cared about you she found a way to make certain that you knew it. Each secret touch or unbidden favor that she did for him made Max's insides do somersaults. Just because she preferred to do so when they had no audience, didn't make her feelings for him any less valid – if anything, Max appreciated that dedication more.

"Earth to Maxie!"

Max snapped out of his reverie with a wave of Tyson's hand in front of his face.

"Uh, sorry." He scratched the back of his head bashfully.

"Dude, you've got it bad," Tyson japed with a huge smile, his upset over dinner now completely forgotten in favor of something much more interesting.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Hilary interjected, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think it's sweet that Max cares so much."

Tyson held his hands up defensively. "Chill out, Hil. I was only teasing him a little."

The brunette rolled her eyes, before turning to Max eagerly. "Can I ask you something? If you don't want to answer, it's okay, but I'm curious."

"Uh-oh. That's your cue to run," Tyson warned, collapsing back onto the grass to get comfortable for what he was sure would be a lengthy conversation.

Max followed suit and patted the ground next to him as an offering to Hilary.

"Ask away!" he answered as she took her place beside him.

Hilary shifted to face the boys and smoothed her skirt out over her thighs. She contemplated her words for a short while before asking, "When you told Mariam, did she say it back right away, or did she wait and tell you later on?"

"Oh, come on, Hilary!" Tyson exasperated, flopping over backwards, "This isn't a slumber party and we're not doing play-by-plays of our love lives!"

"That's good, then, seeing as how yours wouldn't be long enough to entertain anybody anyway," Hilary shot back. If this _was_ a slumber party, she would have walloped him with a pillow.

"Hey! I've been on plenty of dates!"

"With who? Dragoon?"

"None of your business!"

Max chuckled at their antics with a knowing gaze. "Well, I'm ready to spill if you braid my hair afterwards," he joked.

Hilary gave him a playful shove. "Yeah, right!"

Max giggled and the tension was quickly diffused. He fell into a contemplative silence, trying to figure out the best way to answer. He leaned back on his hands and took in the starry canopy above, gorgeous in its complexity like a certain Saint Shield he knew. He wondered briefly if Mariam ever talked with any of her friends about him or if she played everything as close to the vest as she let on. Honestly, the truth wasn't a hard conclusion to come to.

"Mariam actually hasn't said it yet," Max revealed. His eyes never left the sky. He wasn't sure what Tyson's and Hilary's reactions would be to the news, so he braced himself for whatever they wrought.

"Oh," Hilary said with quiet concern, a stark contrast to her previous mood. Her eyes tried to meet Max's, searchingly, but the blond was still stubbornly gazing skyward.

"That's kind of harsh, dude," Tyson said, furrowing his brow. "But, I guess that's Mariam, huh?" He looked to Hilary for assurance, but she was lost in thought. "I mean, it's just words."

That got her attention.

"It's not just words, Tyson! That's how much Mariam means to Max. If she doesn't reciprocate it, it could mean that she doesn't feel the same way," Hilary intoned seriously.

As one of the people who had known Max the longest, the brunette felt she had the responsibility to safeguard his heart. It wasn't that she didn't like Mariam, but the two girls didn't have the closest friendship yet. Hilary just didn't know her well. But she did know Max, and he deserved someone who loved him as strongly as he loved them. She'd be a liar if she said she wasn't concerned at all – she didn't want to see her friend get hurt.

"No, you have it all wrong," Max defended calmly, but leaving no room for argument. "I don't care when Mariam tells me she loves me, or even if she ever does. I didn't say it so she'd feel obligated to say it back or anything like that." His eyes finally met two puzzled gazes before he continued, "I love her, and I just wanted her to know that. If I told her I love her with strings attached, that makes it more about my pride than our relationship."

Max's passion towards the topic shouldn't have surprised Hilary as much as it did. Of course kind-hearted, understanding Max would allow Mariam however much time she needed to come to terms with her emotions. He was the type of guy that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, but if you mistook his friendliness for gullibility you'd regret it. She hoped he could be as discerning when it came to Mariam, who'd had Max wrapped around her finger ever since they'd met.

"Max..."

"Leave him alone, Hilary. What, are their star signs not compatible or something?"

"You _know_ that's not what this is about Tyson!" Hilary countered. Her patience with him was beginning to wear thin.

"Stop bugging him about things that don't matter!"

"It's _important_!"

"You're both right," Max interrupted, causing their argument to grind to a halt. "It _is_ important that Mariam and I are on the same page, but it also doesn't matter if she says she loves me right away. I didn't say it to force her hand – I said it to be honest with her."

"Are you sure you're okay with that, Max?" Hilary asked. "You don't deserve to be left hanging forever. I like Mariam, I really do, but I know she's not exactly...forthcoming."

Seeing that he still owed his companions an explanation, Max clarified, "It means a lot that you guys are concerned, but I really am okay with waiting. Mariam's not the most expressive person, but she says she loves me everyday, even when she doesn't use those exact words."

Max had learned early on, once their relationship began in earnest, to read between the lines. Her love was evident in the way she said his name, in every touch and kiss, and in every mischievous smirk she gave him when her green eyes zeroed in to focus solely on him. It didn't happen all the time, but her love was also laced through the uncharacteristically sweet things she said when they were alone together.

This was a big step for both of them, learning to operate as a unit and navigate a long-distance relationship, and while Max was better at verbalizing his feelings, there were aspects of their life together that Mariam was better at, too. They balanced each other.

"I know Mariam loves me as much as I love her. It would mean a lot to me if you two didn't doubt that."

Max looked imploringly at two of his closest friends whose opinions both mattered greatly to him, willing them to understand. The silence seemed to stretch on forever when, in reality, it was probably only a few seconds before it was broken.

"Well," Tyson began after a beat, rolling to his feet. "That settles that, then. You know Mariam best, and after years of having you as a teammate and fighting by your side, I know you're no pushover." He extended a hand and pulled the blond up.

"Thanks, Ty."

"Don't mention it! Or do, because you ditched me with Gramps and Hilary for a stir-fry torture session. I think I lost a few years off my life!"

"Sorry about that," Max laughed. "Really though, I'll try not to take any more hour-long phone calls while I'm here." He scratched the back of his head and said: "I've really missed you guys."

Tyson beamed, "Back at ya, buddy! Now let's go eat – all this feelings talk is making me hungry!"

"You didn't have to wait for me, Tyson," Max said with an apology on the tip of his tongue, as Tyson attempted to frogmarch him inside.

"I didn't. I want seconds."

Max laughed and turned to offer a hand to Hilary.

"Coming?" he asked. "Mariam I can handle, but I might need backup for Tyson."

Any negativity that lingered in Hilary's expression faded away, like a curtain pulled back to reveal sunlight.

"Mm-hm!" she nodded enthusiastically, taking Max's joke to mean that there were no hard feelings.

Hilary felt bad for grilling him about Mariam, and now that it was over she knew she had overreacted. She was always the first to tell people not to get involved and there she went sticking her nose where it had no place being. It was nice of him to have taken the time to assuage her fears, but it turns out she needn't have worried in the first place. He always was the most sensible of her boys.

Once she was on her feet, the blond lifted their joint hands and gave her a twirl, before tugging a giggling Hilary back toward the house. Tyson was already crossing the threshold, not keen on being kept from dinner any longer, when Max turned to her.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Hil. It means a lot."

He gave her hand a squeeze and she was definitely _not_ tearing up at his earnest expression. All was forgiven.

"Of course, Max," she sniffed, struggling to fend off the sudden rush of emotion.

Like a true gentleman, he didn't mention it.

"Next time Mariam's in town, we should all hang out. You, me, Tyson – double-date or something," he suggested.

She looked at him quizzically. A glint of mischief in his eyes accompanied his grin.

"I'm all for hanging out with you and Mariam, but I have no idea who you expect me to bring as a date," she said, spots of color blooming on her cheeks. "Or Tyson, for that matter." Her blush deepened ever-so-slightly. "Though I'm sure there's plenty of fans lining up for a chance, even if I don't believe he's been on 'tons of dates'," she scoffed.

Max likely would have continued to teasingly pry, if Tyson hadn't chosen that moment to pop his head out and complain about dinner being cold. Hilary yelled at him and stomped up onto the porch with a raised fist, ready and willing to give him a piece of her mind.

Max followed them in, laughing and shaking his head. He was going to be stuck on re-heating duty for sure, but he couldn't bring himself to care when he had friends like Tyson and Hilary to keep him company. Next time he'd have Mariam too, and the thought of all his favorite people together in the same room made everything seem brighter, even when he found all his shrimp missing from his bowl a few minutes later.

* * *

_A/N: I've haven't written much of Tyson and Hilary before, and I'm not entirely convinced that I pulled them off. 'A' for effort? I truly enjoy both of them as characters though, so this was good practice for the next time they pop up in a story. _

_One more chapter to go - we'll be seeing Mariam again, and I'm pretty excited about it!  
_

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, or added this story to their faves/alerts! I appreciate it and hope that it continues to live up to your expectations. :)_

_(And thanks again to roktavor for the beta! This one was a struggle, so kudos for fielding all of my complaints like a champ.)_


	3. Part 2

**The First Time**

_**Part 2**_

* * *

This was one of those times in Mariam's life where things felt too good to be true.

Not that she'd ever share that information with any of the narrow-minded people in her village, many of whom didn't care about her outside of the gossip surrounding her relationship. She had withstood countless rude remarks spouted by the more jealous of her fellow tribesmen, many of them sure that being with Max didn't really _please_ Mariam, and that he was basically her one-way ticket out of the village when the time was right.

On the other side of things, many of the villagers were intent on lauding her love life like it was straight out of a grocery store romance novel, giggling and whispering just within hearing range about all of the romantically illicit activities they were sure she got up to when the handsome, blond American whisked her away.

"The best thing about being 'whisked away' is that I get to be away from all of you," Mariam had once struck back rather savagely.

She'd been having a bad day, in her defense. One of the older women in the village had caught her making a fool out of Dunga and decided to give her a lengthy lecture about the inappropriateness of her behavior. Apparently it was unbecoming of a lady to behave in such a manner, especially towards a man, and that was why she wasn't engaged or married by now, like most of the other village girls her age.

Dunga had been laughing like an idiot behind her and Mariam had been boiling with rage, unable to lash out at him for fear of another dressing-down from Mrs. High-and-Mighty.

She'd been late to her cooking class because of the whole ordeal, which wasn't a big deal because it's not like the extra fifteen minutes would have helped her anyway; several years in, and the teacher was still amazed that Mariam failed at all things culinary. Once she'd had the aforementioned exchange with a couple doe-eyed girls in her class, she decided there was no salvaging her mood. Mariam burned her dish on purpose that day, and sneaked away when the teacher had them all file out into the fresh air.

Since the universe hated her at the moment, she ran into her father when she got home.

Unlike her mother, who didn't seem to mind if Mariam skived off her class once in a while, because she knew how much her daughter absolutely detested it, Tobias was more strict with how she spent her time. They'd argued pretty viciously, Mariam taking all of her frustration from the day out on him, and he letting her know, in no uncertain terms, how unacceptable her attitude was.

Fed up with everything and everyone, Mariam had retreated to her room to grab her phone before climbing out the window and high-tailing it to one of the few places in the area with cell phone reception.

She ended up here more often than she cared to admit, on the outskirts of the outskirts of the village, sat up in her favorite tree, hiding from everyone's expectations.

This place had been her refuge since she was a little girl. Even when she was young, Mariam had always been one to test boundaries and, because of this, had taken great pleasure in scampering off, past the last bits of farmland and warriors' outposts, to explore the unknown. She liked coming home covered in dirt and leaves, or soaking wet because of an impromptu swim, and having her mother ask where she had been all day. It was her favorite thing to answer coyly and inconclusively, just to see Ilea shake her head in fond exasperation.

"Just be safe, little one," she would say, brushing Mariam's messy hair off of her forehead lovingly.

Her father wasn't as nonchalant. Once, when she was about eight years-old, he caught her creeping back into the village at nighttime. He'd been out on his rounds, checking in with all the men they had stationed at the perimeter, when he discovered her. She remembered his fury (shouted reprimands, pointed fingers, and a red, twisted expression on his face) as well as she remembered her own (stomping feet, balled fists, and hysterical arguments through her tears).

Tobias had ordered one of his subordinates to take over in his stead, and hoisted his daughter over one shoulder to bring her home.

Her parents had argued so thunderously that night that Joseph climbed into bed with her, and for the next couple years, Mariam had to be much more careful about how often she visited her getaway.

Then one day, to the surprise of everyone in the village except Ilea, Mariam was chosen by a bitbeast. She was the first female to be picked in generations. She didn't have to be as devious about her escapades now; her father couldn't argue that it was dangerous for her outside the village when she had Sharkrash's protection, and their Mission would take her farther away than the woods just outside their borders.

If you'd asked her all those years ago what she expected to come from her position on Ozuma's team, Mariam was positive she wouldn't have imagined an adventure as enthralling as the one she'd been on ever since she'd cornered Max in that New York alleyway.

Unfortunately, not everything in her life did a total 180 just because she was happier now than she'd ever been, so she still found herself retreating up her tree quite frequently.

She called Max so often from this spot that she had begun to associate it with him. When she was feeling notably sentimental, the branches would remind her of his arms embracing her and protecting her from the opinions of those that didn't matter. She felt accepted, loved, and cherished here. Here she was enough.

For Max, she was enough.

It was then that she first felt it – a terrible, foreign ache in her chest and a cold hollowness in her gut. She knew that Max was an important part of her life and that she felt a certain affection for him that she didn't feel for many people, but this was the first time time she could remember having a true longing in her soul for one person whose very presence made everything feel like it could be overcome.

It scared her, if she was being honest with herself.

She pushed the onslaught of thoughts from her mind, quite used to forcing herself to take things at face value and not delve deeper in fear of what she might find. Max made her happy. That was it.

The emotions weren't as easy to curb.

Her spot in the tree was so well-worn that it seemed to meld with her every curve when she leaned back against it, pressed her forehead to her knees, and held her phone to her chest in the strangest sort of agony she'd ever endured.

Then the tears came, and she was glad no one was there to witness her misery over a feeling she couldn't even define – wouldn't define.

She cried for what felt like ages. It was the kind of cry where your breath hitched and your sobs were ugly and harsh, and Mariam hated it. She hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with such an outpouring of emotion, and by the time she stopped, she was more tired than any other time in recent memory.

The emptiness had abated somewhat, but it was still there, right at the edge of her thoughts, where it would be back in an instant if she entertained the idea of it for even a little bit.

Convincing herself she was looking for a distraction when she was very probably looking for his comfort, the Saint Shield sent Max a text before she could think better of it: _'Bad day.' _He wouldn't see it for a few hours anyway. By that time she could think of an excuse, or just put herself out of range of the nearest cell tower and wait for his worried letter to arrive.

Surprisingly, it was only a few minutes later that her phone rang.

She took a couple seconds to gather herself before answering, "What are you doing awake at three in the morning?"

"Hi, Mariam," her boyfriend's voice sounded, with poorly masked concern, from the other end of the line, "Is everything okay?"

"I think I asked you a question first, Max."

He laughed softly, before answering sheepishly, "I couldn't really sleep. I was writing you." A pause and then: "Are you okay? I got your text."

Mariam smiled fondly. The knots in her chest instantly loosened; she already felt more at ease from literal seconds of conversation. How that worked, she didn't know, but it would surely be one of those questions that came to her in the middle of the night and kept her awake and thinking.

"I'm fine, Maxie. Just the usual," she sighed, unwilling to offer up much. In her defense, she really hadn't expected an answer so soon. Of course her boyfriend had to pick that night to be awake writing another stupid, adorable love letter.

"Your dad again?" he guessed.

She hummed in non-verbal confirmation.

"Him and everyone else."

Max sighed. She could hear the strangely calming lull of New York City traffic in the background and was reminded of how _tired_ she was.

"I'm sorry, Mariam."

"It's all right. I'm used to it," she said honestly, before realizing that she'd probably just make the blond worry more talking like that. So she added, "I just thought I'd give you the chance to cheer me up, otherwise you'd be telling me I should have called you."

"Well, you're not wrong," Max admitted with a hint of amusement. "I'm your boyfriend. It's my job to listen and to cheer you up when you're upset." He paused again, before continuing quietly, "I love you."

Mariam's heart fluttered like it always did when he said those three words. She used to hate the feeling of warmth that bloomed when he spoke so tenderly to her, but she didn't anymore.

Before, it had been disconcerting to think that someone who thought so highly of her may grow to despise her because of her inability to return his affections on the same level. That uneasiness faded when she realized that Max never expected anything from her that she wasn't comfortable giving freely. He let her lead the way and set the speed of the relationship, knowing that her heart had some scars that needed healing before she could catch up to his level of certainty. He was there when she needed to be weak, as well, and he never judged her.

Slowly the American had wormed his way into her heart and proved to her that there was someone out there capable of loving every facet of her being unconditionally.

The longing that had settled in her chest earlier abated even more.

"I'm glad you texted, Mariam, because I wanted to ask you something," Max enthused, smile obvious in his tone.

He had gotten in the habit of changing the subject after saying he loved her. It stemmed, Mariam figured, from his desire not to put pressure on her by making her think he expected the same words in return. He was a wonderful boyfriend.

"I was just going to put it in my letter, but-"

Max's statement was drowned out by the sound of sirens, prompting Mariam to ask: "Where are you?"

"Sorry!" he more or less shouted over the din.

The Saint Shield flinched, pulling the phone from her ear.

"I'm going to go deaf, Max."

She was joking, obviously, but she did have not-so-fond memories of being woken up by those sirens at ungodly hours during her stays in the city. She'd mentioned that she hated them to Max once and gotten a sympathetic smile in return. He didn't really even notice them, having spent a good portion of his childhood sleeping through them.

Mariam's village wasn't so noisy. Once night fell, the only sounds she had to sleep through were crickets and the breeze gusting through her mother's wind chimes. It had been an adjustment for her to be somewhere that had not a moment of silence, no matter what time of day it was.

The boy apologized again and asked her to hold on. She could still hear sirens, but they were joined by quickened footsteps on concrete before the noise faded away with the sound of a door shutting.

"Sorry again! I was on the roof," he explained at a more reasonable volume. "There must be an accident somewhere, because that was literally two firetrucks, three ambulances, and a police car."

Mariam settled back against the tree trunk, confident that the excitement was over for the moment.

"Sounds like Judyzilla's on a rampage downtown," she said automatically, not quite realizing what had slipped out until Max made a noise of amused disbelief.

By the time she tried to backtrack he was already laughing hysterically.

"_Max_, stop," she whined. "That's an awful joke of Joseph's."

To be honest, Mariam had found it hilarious and scarily accurate when her brother had come up with that name to refer to Max's mother. But if Joseph knew that Max knew, he'd start saying it around Max, and then eventually one of Max's American friends would catch on and it would end up getting back to the Queen of the Cold-Blooded herself. Mariam could handle Judy, but that didn't mean she wanted to have to; Judy disliked her enough as it was, without knowledge of the moniker. 'Judyzilla' probably should have never made it past the Saint Shield's training sessions in the first place.

While his girlfriend practiced biting her tongue, Max just kept laughing. It was really unfair that his laugh was so cute and infectious, because Mariam was having a hard time maintaining her sternness with him. Eventually, his laughter subsided.

"Michael and Eddy would die if they heard that!" he proclaimed, slightly out of breath and still giggling now and then.

"Max, I'm going to hang up on you."

"They were heading uptown anyway, so if Judyzilla's terrorizing anywhere-."

"Bye, Max."

"No! Wait!" he protested. She could still hear the sunbeam smile in his voice. "I really do have something to tell you!"

"Well..." she trailed off expectantly, conveying with the words unsaid that she would be more than willing to hang up on him still, should it prove necessary.

Her boyfriend just chuckled – when it came to him, her bark was worse than her bite, and they both knew it.

"I know the exact look you probably have on your face right now," Max said, using the same hopelessly romantic undertone that he pointed out every supposed endearing quality about her with.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't hang up.

He sighed and then there was a comfortable silence. If they were speaking in person, Mariam knew his head would be tilted to the side and he'd be smiling at her with sparkling eyes that were way too easy for her to get lost in, considering she did _not_ wear her heart on her sleeve. The same could not be said for him. As such, she could practically feel the constant surge of emotions coming from him just as clearly as if they were face to face.

"Did you have something to tell me or not?" the Saint Shield finally asked with much less annoyance in her voice than the question suggested.

"I do!" he said, excitedly. His voice echoed a little bit, probably because it was much safer talking in the stairwell than back in his mother's apartment where his every word would be dissected, analyzed, and cataloged. "You know how my mom's going away to that conference next month? And I was going to spend that time visiting with my dad?"

"Yes..." A vague picture was starting to form in Mariam's mind as to where this was going.

"Well, a friend of his, who also owns his own business, invited my dad to an expo at the same time. Networking or something, I guess. So, my dad's going to be out of town for a week or so."

"Do you want me to guess what you're going to say next?"

Max hummed in amusement and continued, "He told me that he'll probably be preparing for his trip during any of his free time, anyway. So, he's willing to not immediately tell my mom if I'd rather visit you instead. If you want me to, that is." He added the last sentence as an afterthought. "I don't want you to feel like I'm inviting myself."

It might have been Mariam's momentarily delicate emotional state, but a visit from Max sounded like the best idea she'd heard in a long time.

"Would you be coming straight here from New York?" she asked.

Max released a bated breath and answered, "No, I think Mom already bought my ticket. Not that you're not worth the trouble of swapping it for a different one, but the temptation of being out of range of a cell tower when my mom finds out where I'm really at is too good to pass up. I'll just fly to Japan as planned before I come there."

"You make a good point," Mariam said sourly. She could imagine the fit Judy would throw when she learned of the change in plans. It was better to pretend she'd cool down given time instead of simmering, and enjoy time with Max without her around to spoil it. "I can make sure everything's taken care of here for your visit. When do you think you'll get here?"

"Depends on how soon I can get a flight down. I land in Japan on the 8th, so no more than a week after that I'd hope. I can let you know?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll pass within service whenever I can to check in," she promised. "Or you can write me."

"I'll probably write you anyway," Max countered with a hint of embarrassment.

Mariam would never tell anyone how treasured those words made her feel. Nor would she ever show anyone the stash of letters cleverly hidden in her bedroom, or admit to the fact that she would fall asleep reading them that night to chase away the last of her heartache.

"I wouldn't expect any less."

That was how she came to be in such a good mood.

The stars had aligned and Max had been able to fly in by helicopter for a visit his mother knew nothing about. She'd find out, of course. Mariam would be blamed, naturally. For now though, life was good, even if she had to be extra careful to keep up her cool and unapproachable facade so no one in the village thought it was okay to pry into their relationship.

It was enough that her heart fluttered and she felt the uncontrollable urge to cry tears of joy when he first stepped out of the chopper. She was so overwhelmed that she let Max get in a hug in plain view of everyone in the village. It felt so good to be in his arms again that she didn't even care at the moment. His presence made the ache in her chest, that threatened to grow worse with every goodbye, disappear completely. It was only after the initial elation that she realized she'd made a spectacle of herself.

The thing about living in a small community is that everyone knows everything about everyone else. Your personal business is basically common knowledge – it wasn't unheard of to be asked about life events by someone who you'd never spoken to on the subject and have them turn out to be much more of an expert than they had any right being.

Mariam didn't like to give anyone in her clan any ammunition. She already felt like enough of an outsider without having her every move scrutinized, so she usually kept her feelings for Max under wraps until they were alone.

It was different in New York and Japan. Away from home, she'd grown more at ease with allowing small gestures of affection in public. It was a unique type of freedom to know that most of the people you passed on the street were people you'd never see again, and they probably wouldn't recognize you if you did.

It would have been nearly perfect, if not for the paparazzi that reared their ugly heads when there was no more interesting news. Honestly, even when there was more interesting news, Mariam saw her face on newsstands more than she liked. It made her think that a hug in the village square wasn't so bad.

She'd surely change her tune the first time it was brought up to her, but she let contentment win out for now.

"This is a warm welcome," Max said.

Mariam could hear the smile in his voice and pulled away to give him a gentle shove.

"Do you mean me or the dozens of villagers who can't mind their own business?" she asked, throwing a few accusatory glares into the crowd.

Max just chuckled amiably and turned to accept his suitcase from the pilot. He thanked him and finalized the details of his return journey, before moving to a safe distance with Mariam to allow the chopper to take off.

"So," he drawled, settling his gaze on his girlfriend again. "It's great to see you, Mariam. I've missed you so much, you have no idea."

He smiled shyly at her, hyper-aware of all the eyes that still lingered shamelessly in their direction . Max would gladly shout his feelings from the rooftops, but he knew Mariam was more reserved with her affections.

Mariam studied her boyfriend for a second and decided that she didn't have the patience to care what anyone thought right then and there.

"I think I have some idea," she answered, seizing his hand before their audience could get to her and tugging him in the direction of her home.

Their walk wasn't the most romantic they'd ever had, with Mariam leading the way a step ahead of Max and gripping his hand, determined not to lose her nerve and let go. Max, good-natured as always, didn't say a word about her behavior and simply followed where she led.

It wasn't long before they reached their destination. Mariam slowed their pace, but didn't hesitate to open the door and pull Max inside. She felt her tension ebb when the door latched behind them.

"Finally," she enthused.

"Peace at last?" Max asked with a lopsided smile and soft eyes.

He didn't know how true that statement was, Mariam thought to herself. With every footstep away from the villagers and their opinions, Mariam had felt freer. It wasn't just that she cared deeply about Max and cherished his company – it was also that she liked the person she was when they were together. For someone that gave her such complicated feelings, her life never felt simpler than when he was by her side.

She didn't know how to sum any of that up succinctly, so she backed him into the nearest wall and kissed him passionately.

Max sighed, having missed this closeness as much as she had. One of his hands was on her waist and the other tangled itself in her hair, mussing up her ponytail. He cradled her like she was his greatest treasure and it made Mariam feel like an ocean was rolling in her belly.

She snaked a hand up into his hair in turn, and tugged gently so that she could deepen the kiss. The noise that action pulled from him spurred her on. She dug the fingers of her other hand into his shirt, and pressed against him so tightly that she couldn't tell whose heartbeat she was feeling thundering in her chest.

She hoped Max could derive some meaning from her actions, because she didn't know how to verbalize any of her feelings, and there were so many that she wasn't even ready to admit to herself. All of a sudden she was overwhelmed by how _right_ this felt.

He understood, she thought, judging by the way his hand moved to span the side of her face. His thumb tenderly stroked her cheek, brushing against her pale skin and spreading a blush in its wake. The hand on her waist had migrated up beneath her shirt seeking bare skin and tracing tantalizing patterns into her back.

"Do you guys need me to leave, or...?"

Max yanked his hands away like he'd been burned and Mariam whipped her head around to try to hide the fact that she'd jumped about a foot in the air at the interruption.

"JOSEPH!" Mariam screeched.

Her face was hot with a flush she was going to pretend was pure fury. Poor Max looked like a tomato.

Joseph just smirked and took another bite out of the apple he was eating.

"Hi, Max," he greeted smugly around his mouthful, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and surveying the scene with blatant amusement.

"Hi, Joseph," Max replied with a strangled voice.

"Long time, no see, buddy."

"Uh, yeah..."

"What are you doing here, Joseph?" Mariam interrupted the awkward conversation before it got even more painful to bear witness to.

"I live here, genius."

Mariam narrowed her eyes dangerously and took a couple menacing steps in his direction. Joseph had grown taller recently, but she could still knock him down a peg or two when he deserved it.

"Hey, chill out!" Joseph lifted his hands in surrender, one of them still clutching the apple core. "Just be glad I wasn't Dad. I don't care what you two do behind closed doors as long as you let me leave first."

"_Joseph_," Mariam warned, staring him down with her hands on her hips and eyebrows knit together angrily. Behind her, Max's blush was starting to fade, but he still wouldn't meet Joseph's eyes.

"Tough crowd," Joseph relented. He lobbed the remains of his apple into the trash and slid off the counter.

"C'mon. I'll help Lover Boy unpack," he said, picking up Max's forgotten suitcase and leading the way further into the house.

Ever since Max had become more of a staple in Mariam's life, it made less and less sense for him to stay anywhere but with her family whilst visiting. Tobias hadn't been crazy about the idea, to put it lightly, but as it was his wife's idea he was given very little say in the matter. Ilea was always steadfast in the face of her husband's ire.

Mariam was glad Max had still been safely out of the country when the topic was first discussed. Her father already had a way of looming threateningly that made Max uncomfortable – she could only imagine how that discomfort would multiply tenfold if he'd heard the fuss her dad kicked up over him staying under the same roof as her.

Mariam, surprisingly, hadn't had much to say on the matter. The whole thing filled her with equal parts dread and excitement, so she'd left her parents to sort it out and trained with Sharkrash until her arms were too sore to launch anymore.

In any case, Max was now allowed to stay over when he was visiting. The only stipulation was that he share Joseph's bedroom at night. Tobias had also been very clear that there was no reason for him to be in Mariam's room at all, but since Mariam was seldom home when her boyfriend was in town anyway, it didn't really matter.

Max didn't have much that required unpacking besides a few key toiletries, so it wasn't long before the three teenagers were sprawled out in Joseph's room catching up.

"So, you're saying that your mom has no idea you're here?" Joseph's eyebrows raised incredulously. He had to crane his neck awkwardly from his position laying upside-down on his bed to make sure Max noticed.

The blond shrugged.

"She might now, I don't know. She's had a harder time keeping track of me now that I turned my location off on my phone, but she'll notice it's out of service and put two and two together eventually," he answered nonchalantly, his concentration elsewhere.

Joseph let out a long whistle and said, "Well, good luck with _that_."

"He'll need it," Mariam noted with a roll of her eyes.

"And you'll need a new weight disc," her boyfriend informed from where he was dismantling her beyblade at Joseph's desk. "This one will break clean through if you get in a tough enough battle. What have you been doing to crack it so bad?"

Mariam leaned over his shoulder to take a look. Her blue hair cascaded forward with the movement, and she had to toss it behind her so it wouldn't get in the way of Max's work area.

"Mostly pummeling the boys," she answered impishly, twirling Sharkrash's bit chip in her grasp.

"And smashing rocks when people piss her off," Joseph supplied with a smirk.

Max chuckled fondly and shot Mariam one of his world-revolves-around-you looks. It was only a split second of eye contact that the couple maintained, before he went back to tuning up Mariam's blade. Still, it was enough to make her heart race.

"Well, smashing faces is frowned upon," she shrugged and leaned forward to wrap her arms around her boyfriend from behind. "Can you fix it?"

"I can do one better and replace it entirely."

He pulled a small gray box out of his toolkit and opened it to show her a shiny new weight disk nestled within. He held it out to her, so she plucked it from it's case and stood up straight to examine it.

"It's made from a new alloy the BBA just developed. It's lightweight, but capable of resisting damage when taking or doling out heavy hits," Max informed. "I thought it would suit Sharkrash's style of battle, since you won't need to sacrifice as much speed as you would with more common materials."

"You're a genius, Max," Mariam complimented, holding the part up to the light to get a better glimpse at the detail.

Max visibly puffed up with pride.

"I'm sure Judyzilla was thrilled that you worked so hard on it," Joseph crowed, ogling the aforementioned part from afar.

"Joseph!" Mariam reprimanded as the blond beside her started to laugh. Mentally she thought Joseph was lucky that she'd already inadvertently shared the nickname with Max, but that didn't mean she couldn't yell at him for bringing it up. "I told you to shut up about that!"

"Relax, Sis. It's just Max," Joseph waved her off, any possible repercussions not bothering him at all.

Her boyfriend kept laughing, shaking his head at Joseph's antics.

Mariam hated her emotions. It wasn't as if she wanted to be a soulless machine, but she could seldom muster the energy to decipher what all the nuances of her feelings meant. It was easier, by far, to just tamp everything down until she couldn't bear it anymore, and then handle the fallout. She'd been bottling up a lot recently, so it should have come as no surprise that Joseph's banter brought all kinds of anger and frustration to the forefront, all fighting to be released any way they could.

"Don't tell me to relax!" she snarled, shocking the room's other occupants into silence. The only sounds were the muffled goings-on of the village and Mariam's own heavy breaths. She tried to leave it there, but the floodgates were open and she was powerless to control the rush. "If Judy finds out, _I'm _the one that's going to get the brunt of it. I can stand up for myself just fine, but do either of you know how exhausting it is to have to fight that woman at every turn?! I can't do anything right in her eyes! This whole thing is going to be _my_ fault!"

Her voice cracked on the last syllable. She couldn't figure out why she felt like crying, but angry tears were welling up in her eyes.

Max and Joseph were staring at her like she was a wild animal.

"Mariam?"

"No, Max!" She didn't even know what she was refusing, but she was plagued by guilt immediately upon seeing his big blue eyes widen further. "I love you, but your mom, she's a different story."

Mariam wrapped her arms around herself and the room fell silent.

At first she didn't realize what she'd said, too caught up in the sudden shift in the atmosphere her mood swing brought on. It was Max's face that hinted at her slip-up when it went from happy to hopeful and then a carefully constructed blankness in the span of thirty seconds. His lips twitched, like he wanted to speak but didn't dare to.

Eventually, her brain caught up with her mouth and the color drained from Mariam's already pale face. She dropped one particularly nasty swear word in her native tongue and bolted past Max and Joseph.

She wasn't sure where she was heading, but she knew she needed to get out of the house and away from the mess she's just made for herself. She didn't want to see the disappointment writ in Max's face when he realized she didn't mean her words or the incredulity on Joseph's while he tried to puzzle through what brought her outburst on.

She needed air. She needed to _smash_ something, but Sharkrash was still in pieces back in Joseph's room and there was no way she was going anywhere near that place right now. She cursed herself for not snagging the pile of parts before she left, but that would have brought her within reach of her boyfriend who would have roped her into staying and trying to hash everything out.

Just the thought of all the ways she could've ruined her relationship by doing that made her vaguely nauseous. And the realization that she very likely ruined it anyway made her _exceedingly_ nauseous. She probably would have been sick if she wasn't determined to not fall entirely apart in public.

There was a thundering in her ears that drowned out the odd tribesmen she'd pass when they tried to ask if she was okay. Most of them were smart enough to get out of her way after the first few were ignored.

She crossed the village square in long strides, fully intending to pass through and spend a few hours hiding in the woods, when a familiar sign caused her to change course.

It was lunchtime, and her mother didn't schedule patients during her lunch hour.

Mariam reached for the door like it was her last lifeline. The chimes above sounded when she rushed through and they jingled a second time, indignantly, as she slammed the door shut behind her. She leaned against it and attempted to catch her breath and slow her rapidly beating heart. A warmth radiated from her palm and she opened her fist to see Sharkrash's bit chip glowing as he attempted to comfort her.

"Mariam?"

Her head shot up. Ilea was standing a few paces away, having hurried out from the back when she heard the commotion. Her hair was inside her lab coat and the collar was crooked; she'd tossed it on in haste.

"Sweetheart?" Ilea asked with a furrowed brow.

It wasn't unheard of for Mariam to seek her out during her break. Usually, it was something to do with Tobias, some argument that Ilea would have to mediate. Helping those two see eye to eye was a full-time job – they were alike and different in all the ways that made them clash the most.

She could tell that today was different, though. Her daughter wasn't railing on about her father's unfair restrictions. Instead, she was standing stock still with her back against the door as if to bar entry to the outside world. If Ilea didn't know how much it took to shake Mariam, she would have thought someone was hurt. If that were the case, the pair would already be leaping into action instead of standing at an impasse in the waiting room.

She took methodical steps forward, straightening out her coat as she went. "Is something wrong?"

Mariam was more open with her than most people. Ilea likened it to the pair of them being kindred spirits: Ilea had also grown up wanting to spread her wings beyond the confines of the small town she was raised in. There were things she wanted to learn and places she wanted to see that the village couldn't offer her.

It was funny that Tobias was so intent on keeping Mariam grounded, when it was that very urge to deny the status quo that made him fall in love with his wife. Of course, all the love in the world couldn't stop someone from being afraid. Ilea has suspected for a while that that was one way in which Mariam was definitely more like her father.

"I just told Max I loved him."

"Ah," she answered. Suspicions confirmed.

"It was an accident."

"I see."

There was panic in Mariam's eyes when she met Ilea's gaze. Panic and frustration, because she didn't understand what was making her react so adversely.

Mariam's mask of indifference and control was her shield against a society that told her 'no' at every turn. Ilea had watched her, countless times, puff out her chest and answer 'YES' with stubborn defiance, only to crash and burn privately when the feelings she was determined to keep under lock and key forced themselves to the surface.

There had been a lot of that once she started seeing Max. Inevitably, her daughter would come out of those brooding periods having adapted to better handle that particular set of emotions. Even if the growth was slight, Ilea noticed. It was one of the things that endeared her to Max, before even meeting him properly.

Evidently, Mariam was more taken with the boy than she wanted to admit. Ilea smiled sympathetically.

"Ugh, don't look at me like that!" Mariam moaned, collapsing sideways over the arm of a waiting room chair. "And don't ask what I know you're about to ask, because you're not going to like the answer."

Ilea gamely ignored the way Mariam's voice wavered, and moved to lean against her receptionists' desk. A clock ticked somewhere in the background as she shuffled some papers around, making sure outgoing and incoming were separated properly. After allowing a moment of silence, Ilea asked what they both knew was coming: "_Do_ you love him?"

Mariam inhaled shakily, draping her arm across her forehead. "No," she said, chin quivering, before amending, "I don't know."

As usual, helping her daughter process her feelings was going to be an awful lot like prying an honest medical history from a patient. Luckily, Ilea was up for the challenge.

"He makes you happy," she observed.

A side of Mariam that Ilea had thought to be gone for good was reborn when her relationship with Max began; a soft side that she remembered well.

When the Saint Shields returned from Japan empty-handed, Mariam had been tense. It wasn't the failure that bothered her as much as the villagers questioning their decision to allow the Bladebreakers to maintain ownership of the Sacred Spirits. The blame fell mostly on Ozuma's shoulders, but more than enough of it was heaped upon Mariam for being the supposed 'weak link'.

Mariam wore an armor of defiance against the naysayers. She was the most vocal, during the weeks following their homecoming, about why they made the decision they did. When the elders tried to seize Sharkrash from her to pass onto a worthier master, they found that her bond with him was too strong to break.

Ilea admired her heart and how she stuck to her scruples. She'd always raised her children to be independent thinkers, but she soon discovered that the backlash caused Mariam to build more walls, putting on an even tougher facade. It became harder and harder to get close to her.

She wasn't the same girl who left for New York; if possible, she meshed even less with the rest of the village. Her prickly behavior drove people away, and that seemed to suit her just fine.

That was, until she started hearing regularly from the mysterious American. No one was as capable of poking holes in Mariam's defense as Max was. A casual observer might see Mariam's barbed tongue and quick wit and assume the opposite to be true, but Ilea noticed all the microscopic ways Max wormed his way into her daughter's heart.

"I wouldn't be with him if he didn't make me happy, Mom," Mariam said, falling back to her standby sarcasm. She wasn't as believable as usual with her arms crossed tightly in defense. Her eyes scanned the ceiling as if it could bring her an answer for her conundrum, pointedly avoiding her mother's matching green set.

"Does he make you happier than anyone else?" Ilea persevered.

Mariam groaned and hid her face in her hands. Her mother looked on, patience personified. Mariam could feel her staring and knew that, if she peeked, Ilea would be wearing one of her gentle, searching looks designed to make even the most tight-lipped person share their secrets.

"It's just...different. I don't know."

"In what way?"

"I just said I don't know!" Mariam growled and swung to her feet in a huff. "I didn't come here to be interrogated, Mom!"

"No, you came here because you're afraid."

Those words sent Mariam reeling as if she'd been slapped, even though the delivery was gentle. The room was silent as the mother and daughter stared one another down, except for the ever-present ticking. Mariam was going to _crush_ that clock. She balled her hands into fists.

"I'm not afraid," Mariam contended, voice low and quivering in a way she hoped belied anger and not the cold, sinking feeling in her gut.

Her mother watched all the emotions flicker across Mariam's face and tilted her head. She had to tread carefully here, peel away the layers of Mariam's defenses one by one in order to keep her from closing off before the necessary progress was made.

Ilea shimmied up onto the check-in desk and patted the spot next to her. Mariam took the proffered seat, if only to avoid looking her mother directly in the eyes.

"I don't claim to know everything about your feelings for Max," Ilea began, "but I do know that you seem happier than you've been in years. You two complement one another."

Mariam tucked her hands into her lap and fiddled with Sharkrash's bit chip some more. She radiated nervous energy, but didn't seem as if she was going to flee the building and camp out in the woods any time soon. Ilea decided to chance it and continue.

"As the person who's known you longest, and hoped and wished for the best for you since before you were even born, I feel confident telling you that that young man loves you the way you deserve to be loved. The person I see you becoming, in part because of your relationship with Max, is the person I believe you were always meant to be."

She reached over to tuck Mariam's bangs behind her ear.

Her daughter remained silent, letting out a shaky exhale.

"You were always destined for more than this place," Ilea said, "Even your father realizes that."

Mariam's brows furrowed. "I'm not trying to use Max as my ticket out of the village."

"Who said that you are?"

Ilea received a pointed look in return, before Mariam answered bitterly, "_Guess._"

The older woman scoffed. "I don't have a shred of respect for that banshee's opinion and neither should you," she said firmly. "And I think, given that I'm the one who raised you, that I know you better."

Mariam stared at her mom, knowing full well how rare it was for her to openly insult someone; usually killing them with kindness was more her speed.

"Judy is a special case," Ilea clarified with a mischievous curl of her lips that reminded Mariam entirely too much of Joseph. "I promise I'll behave whenever we run into each other next. Which, at this rate, will probably be at your wedding."

"Mom!" Mariam sputtered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks of its own volition. She launched herself off the desk, but was stopped from going any further by Ilea grabbing her wrist.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Too far, I know." She grinned at her daughter sheepishly and stood up to pull her into a hug.

Mariam hated how comforting it was to be held just then. She moaned and plopped her forehead onto her mom's shoulder. She felt like stomping her feet and throwing a tantrum, but refrained – she still had _some_ dignity.

Ilea rubbed her back in comforting circles and rocked back and forth in a barely-there rhythm. It was a few minutes before she spoke next.

"It's all right if you don't feel as if you can verbally return Max's feelings right now," she said. "In fact, he told me he loved you on accident, ages before he worked up the courage to tell you."

Mariam pulled away and shot her mom a confused look, but didn't say anything.

Ilea smiled and cupped Mariam's cheek.

"But I think we both know how you feel about him. If you can't admit it to him yet, at least admit it to yourself so you don't go crazy," she advised.

Mariam snorted and rolled her eyes, but didn't back away. Her mom wiped a tear from her cheek with her thumb and Mariam was stunned to realize that she was crying. She took a deep breath and leaned into the touch.

"Don't be ashamed of your fear, either," Ilea continued quietly so as not to destroy the intimacy of the moment. "Loving someone means opening yourself up to being afraid and heartbroken and everything that makes you human." She paused, debating internally, before continuing: "I'm afraid every day – for you and Joseph and your father – but there's never been a single second where I regret loving you."

Mariam let out a wet sob before she could stop herself and pulled away to vigorously wipe the tears from her eyes.

"It's just...a lot to commit to," she said in a small voice, struggling to pull herself together.

"It is," Ilea agreed. "I think you'll find that, even though it seems like such a groundbreaking occasion, not much will change. You still feel the same way about him. You're simply being transparent about those feelings."

"We'll see," Mariam said, sounding more like herself than she had in weeks.

"That's good to hear," Ilea said. She laughed melodically when her daughter realized what her words implied and looked momentarily surprised. "Go on and find him, then. No matter what, you owe him an explanation."

Mariam nodded and turned to leave. She paused with one hand on the doorknob, and looked back over her shoulder. "Thanks, Mom," she said.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Ilea answered warmly, "and good luck!"

The chimes tinkled behind her as she left.

* * *

The thing about finding Max was that it was _never_ easier said than done, because as soon as she thought about him, he usually cropped up. That was the reason why she wasn't surprised to find him not-so-subtly searching the square for her as soon as she left her mother's office. She used to refer to him as a puppy as a joke, but he certainly did bear an uncanny resemblance to a lost pet struggling to sniff out its owner. Her lips twitched into a smirk.

Taking a deep breath, she strode purposefully in his direction. It only took a couple of steps before they made eye contact, but she never slowed her pace for fear that she'd chicken out. He looked relieved, but only took half a step in her direction before thinking better of it and waiting for her to come to him.

She came to a halt in front of him on the dusty path.

"Hey, Max," she greeted, keeping her expression purposefully oblique. She didn't want to mess with him this time; she simply wanted to keep herself from getting all mushy in front of every shopkeeper and tradesman in town.

"Mariam!" he exclaimed, having no such concerns. "I was worried you left!"

"Well, your helicopter was gone already, so..." she trailed off, teasingly.

Max didn't laugh, but the joke seemed to put him at ease.

"Listen, Mariam. About what happened back there," he said, holding his hands up in a placating manner. "We can just pretend like it never happened. We were goofing off and things got a little out of hand. I'm sorry." He looked at her imploringly.

"You don't have to apologize and I don't want to pretend like it never happened."

He was about to reply, but she laced their fingers together and stopped him in his tracks.

"Can we talk somewhere?"

"Anywhere," he enthused, relieved that there wasn't going to be a lasting rift between them.

Mariam squeezed his hand and led him out of the busy part of town.

They walked until the path disappeared and the underbrush grew thicker, heading in the opposite direction of her usual hideout. It was possible to loop around the entire village to get from her tree to their current destination (she knew, having done it many times), but they were out for a purpose, not leisure, so she took the straightforward route.

She led him through one last row of trees, holding some dangling vines out of the way for him as he trudged out of the woods.

Max gasped and looked around with amazement in his eyes.

The couple were in a cozy, green glade, nestled between the forest that surrounded the Saint Shield's home and the mountains that encased the entire valley. Racing down the massive wall of stone directly in front of them was a waterfall. It fed a decently sized lake that, in turn, fed the river that passed through the farmlands near the village.

"This is beautiful, Mariam," he gushed, spinning to take in the entire view. "Why haven't we come here before?"

Mariam kicked off her boots and settled down on the edge of the lake, dangling her feet in the water.

"It's not as off the beaten path as it seems," she answered, leaning back onto her hands. "A lot of kids come here when it's warm enough – not the best place for privacy."

The blond left his own socks and shoes in a neat pile beside hers and followed her lead. The water was refreshing and cool on his legs. He could definitely see why it was a hot spot.

"No one's here now," he observed, propping himself up on his hands as well. He could hold her hand if he shifted a couple of inches to the left.

Mariam looped her pinky finger around his and he whipped around to face her, surprised at the touch.

"Lunchtime," she explained, expression unreadable.

He nodded.

They fell into silence after that, though it wasn't as relaxed as either of them would have preferred. There were so many unsaid words thrumming between them. They'd come here to talk, after all. It wasn't one of Mariam's strong suits. Max resolutely did not step on her toes and strike up a conversation while she was still gathering the courage to broach the subject.

Mariam took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

"I want to take back what I said, Max."

He looked at her, glad she was staring ahead towards the waterfall because he didn't think he would be able to mask the hurt in his eyes. This was okay, he reminded himself. He was the one that had said they should just forget it ever happened. Problem was, he knew that a part of him would always remember her saying those three words that he longed to hear.

Max studied Mariam, not having to be sneaky about it because she was purposefully not meeting his eyes. Her hair was pulled up like it always was, still impossibly long. He dragged his gaze down her profile, memorizing the graceful slope of her nose and the way her upper lip hung minutely over her bottom one.

Could he go on loving her without his feelings being reciprocated? He wasn't lying all those months ago when he told Hilary he was okay with waiting. Mariam loved him – he spent enough time studying and reading into every one of her actions to know that. It was enough, he thought. Actions speak louder than words, after all.

He felt like the worst kind of liar, because now that the words _had_ been said, he wanted them to be verbalized for real.

Max felt his eyes beginning to prickle and willed his tears back. It wasn't fair to Mariam for him to require vocal validation of her feelings. He would be no different from every other jerk that had vied for her attention over the years.

The thought of living his life without her in it didn't even bear considering. He would love her as long as he was alive, no matter where their lives took them. It was a scary feeling, in some ways, to love her so much, especially when seeds of doubt were being sown where they didn't belong.

"You're having a crisis, aren't you?" Mariam interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

He hadn't noticed her piercing gaze settling on him in his distraction.

"No," he answered too quickly.

She raised an eyebrow at him. It was such a normal interaction for the two of them that he huffed out a laugh.

"Maybe a little," he amended. "but it's okay, really."

Mariam withdrew her legs from the water and curled them underneath her so she could sit facing Max, not caring that she was getting her clothes wet. She considered him for a minute, reading every dark thought in his guilty gaze.

"I want to take it back, Max, because you don't deserve to have something so important looped in with an insult to your mother. And you don't deserve it to be an accident."

He opened his mouth to protest, and she covered it with her hand, giving him a stern look in the process.

"You don't," she repeated. "Don't argue with me."

She could feel his lips turn upward against her palm and his eyes crinkled at the corners. She wanted to kiss him, and she couldn't think of a good enough reason not to, so she did. Whatever was weird between them healed with the bruising force of her lips on his and her fingers in his hair.

Before things could get too far, she pulled away, simultaneously pushing Max back with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait."

He obliged, feeling more at ease than he had before, even with the swiftness of the kiss.

Mariam was a different story. Her stomach felt like it was coiling up on itself as she struggled to figure out how to start. She wrung her hands together just to do something with them that wasn't reaching for Max. There was so much she wanted to say and she was so far from good at this that it was kind of pathetic.

Funnily enough, a glance at the cause of all her internal discourse and his patient expression helped her thoughts become less muddled.

"You're a great guy, Max," she started, maintaining eye contact where she would usually shy away. "To be honest, I never really saw myself as a relationship type of person. I didn't think I'd ever find anyone who wasn't a total pain to be around all the time. I guess I was so used to being independent that the thought of having someone who I had to share so much of myself with sounded exhausting.

"Then you came along and, even though we had a rocky start, after a while things were just...easy."

Max nodded his agreement, but didn't interrupt otherwise.

"There's never been someone that I click with like I do with you," Mariam continued. "I'm sorry for all the times I've pushed you away and I'm sorry that I'm scared." Her voice cracked on the last word and her lips trembled as she fought to get control over the sudden rush of emotions.

Max placed his hand over hers and looked at her like she was his whole world. Her chest ached like it had in her tree when she was missing him so much she could barely breathe. It didn't make sense, because he was right in front of her, touching her even. Maybe the feeling meant something else entirely.

Whatever it was, Mariam was tired of being afraid. She nodded to herself and surged forward to close the distance between them.

She kissed him softly, sweetly. The press of her lips was a stark contrast to the desperation of their embrace when he'd arrived, as well as the coy flirtation she employed when trying to get a rise out of him. She pulled away far enough for the tips of their noses to brush as they shared one breath, and met his lidded gaze.

It was cliché to think that she could drown in the blue of his eyes, but they were truly as deep and all-consuming as an ocean. Mariam loved to swim; he was a current she would willing be swept away by.

The ache that rose in her chest no longer scared her, and the twisting in her stomach dulled to a pleasant fluttering. Unlike all the times before, she opened the door to these raw emotions and let herself feel without thought. What once felt as constricting as a vice, now felt as warm and welcoming as one of his hugs.

She was crying in earnest now, and Max held her face in both hands so he could dry her tears.

"I love you, Max," she whispered into the heavy silence between them, punctuating it with a gentle graze of her teeth against his bottom lip. "I love you." One kiss. "I love you." And another. "I love you."

Max made a sound like a sob and pulled her close to kiss her soundly. Their heads tilted automatically to slot their mouths together with all the ease of a couple that had had plenty of practice.

Her mother was right: this wasn't new territory, but it was unfamiliar waters; they knew where they stood, but the waves brought with them new secrets to unlock. Mariam looked forward to forging every key with Max.

Their kiss simmered down over time, lulling into a lazy rhythm that was familiar and brand new all at once. Mariam could get used to that feeling – now that she admitted her love for Max, she wanted to fall more in love with him every single day.

Max laid back in the grass. Mariam followed suit, settling beside him with the taste of their mutual promises lingering on her tongue. For once, the thought of a future with him didn't frighten her. She was fully looking forward to it.

* * *

_A/N: The End! This is longer than the first two chapters combined, but it's not my fault Mariam's a tough nut to crack. _

_General disclaimer that A LOT of the world-building bits about the Saint Shields and Mariam's mother are either highly influenced by RedWheeler's headcanons or a joint effort between the two of us. I vividly remember rereading her story "Maybe" before starting this a couple years ago, and rereading that same story was also what prompted me to want to finish. There are a couple little nods I threw in for fun.  
_

_Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing - it means a lot! I'll see you next time._


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